Dylan
by floatsodelicately
Summary: Molly puts her newest grandchild down for his nap and thinks back on how he came to be with them.


_"I pray for rain because I'm trying  
To find god and make him cry,  
Because I'm dying in a fire beneath my covers."_

_Dylan - Emmy The Great_

* * *

Molly looked down at Dylan, her 2 month old grandson, as she held him in her arms. He grew more drowsy and his vibrant red curls faded to a mousy brown, changing back to his normal state as he fell asleep. Dylan may not be a Weasley by blood, but he was a Weasley all the same. She could still remember it, clear as day, when the idea of an adopted Weasley had been introduced almost two years ago when she bumped into Fred leaving an appointment room at St Mungos...

* * *

"Frederick Gideon Weasley! I know I did not just hear you making plans to get a vasectomy!"

Fred looked up to see his mother standing outside the door with her hands on her hips. Exchanging a look and a sigh with his healer, he moved past his mother to leave, knowing that she would follow. "Wow Mum, do you want to shout any louder? Don't think Charlie heard all the way in Romania about _my_ healer appointment which I _really_ don't want to talk about with you!"

"How could you do this Fred?"

"This is not up for discussion! How do you get out of this place?" he asked, looking up at the board to find the exit.

Molly ignored his question and carried on, "Well I am putting it up for discussion-"

"Go put it up with someone else then because I am not talking to you about my penis," he hissed.

"I want grandchildren, Frederick."

"And you'll get about 30. Go ask Ron about his tackle, stay away from mine."

"But why do this? Hermione will be such a good mother-"

Molly had never been manhandled by anyone, especially not her children, so it took her completely by surprise when her middle child spun her around and into a supplies closet.

"Fred! What do you think you are doing?! Let me out of here now!"

"No Mum, there are people out there and it'll get out if we talk anymore about this in public. I am not having Hermione reading about this in the Daily Prophet!"

"You mean you haven't told her?! She doesn't know?!"

"Of course she knows! Stop screeching at me!"

"Will you just-" Molly went to continue but balked at Fred's solemn look.

"I am getting this done. It is not up for a vote, there will be no discussions or appeals by anyone who is not my wife."

"But Hermione-"

"Would be a great mother, I know."

"Then why-?"

"We can't do it anymore."

"Fre-"

"We've had four miscarriages." Fred's words cut through the tense air sharply. "Four."

Molly's eyed watered and she choked on her words. Her hands fluttered around Fred's slumped shoulders as she tried to find a way to comfort him, but they don't teach you how to help when your babies lose their babies. Four children they had never held. Four grandchildren she had never met.

Fred continued, "This is just a potion that I take once and then...in the future...if we decide to try again, I can get it reversed."

"But you never said anything..."

"The first time was the Thursday before we were going to announce it at Sunday dinner."

"Oh poor-"

"Don't!" he grimaced. "Don't say it. You don't know. If you mention it to her she will castrate me and this appointment will be...we'll it would be quite unnecessary, wouldn't it?" Fred tried to smile.

"But she needs someone to talk to. I could-"

"You've had seven kids...but you haven't lost a child, Mum. You haven't been tortured by a lunatic to the point that you may never be able to carry our child to term...She doesn't want anyone's pity, or sympathy, she wants to do this her way and I'll do what she wants."

"But you need someone too, Freddie..."

"I've got Hermione and George."

molly's tears spilled over, "Oh but she'd be so wonderful, with how she is with little James and Lucy, I thought that-"

"So did we...we're looking into other options as well."

"Other options?"

"We've tried treatments but it's still hard when they...there's surrogacy but we'd have to go muggle for that and I don't know...or adoption. I think...that might be what we're leaning towards."

* * *

Six months later, they applied to the Ministry. After various interviews and assessments, it was a lot of waiting for owls or floo calls from their case worker. There had been a couple of false starts in the adoption process when it emerged that the Weasley's (one of the more prominent Weasley pairs) were looking to adopt and story hungry journalists set up appointments only to be escorted from the building with a nasty hex from both upset parents-to-be. Then, eight months ago, they received an owl to come in to the ministry to meet with a potential mother. The meeting went well. So well that there was another one. And another. Then a letter to say that they would be welcome to come to their sons next scan.

And here he was. Little Dylan Weasley who had quickly worked out how to use his surprise metamorphagus traits to give himself Hermione's curls and Fred's red hair. He had his father's cheeky smile and his mothers eyes and he already knew how to use them to his advantage. She settled him back down into his crib and he reached out sleepily to his blanket, clutching it in his tiny fist. Molly left the door open a little behind her and sat down in her chair with her knitting.

Now she just needed to get Charlie settled down.


End file.
